Emma Yaaka: More to a refugee
Written by: Emma Yaaka and Elizabeth Rivas
Edited by: Laura Gonzalez, Hayley Ross, Sheridan Block
(Photo courtesy Emma Yaaka)
I was born in a family of over 20 kids. When I was a child, I thought we were rich because where I’m from — Munamba, Uganda — children equal wealth. I failed to understand how my parents were struggling.
My parents couldn’t afford to place us in good schools, but I still got an education. I didn’t have shoes or uniforms, so I waited for my siblings to outgrow theirs so I could wear them. Oftentimes, they didn’t fit me. On top of that, I wasn’t able to go to school every year because I was preoccupied with family issues. But still, I was happy to go to school when I did.
I attended university without having to pay tuition or fees. There were times when you could strike a deal with the teachers — you do errands for them, and they would let you attend their classes without having to pay any fees. However, not every teacher offered this deal, so I would change schools every so often.
During that time, an opportunity to learn about community health presented itself. Since I wanted to go to medical school and become a doctor, I took the opportunity to train people about community health and decided to take a basic training course. I did well and wanted to continue my education on the subject, but to advance I needed to pay.
Since I couldn’t afford this education, I decided to become a trainer. I became a Trainer of Trainees (ToT). The more I trained, the more courses I was able to take. This training made it possible for the organization to recommend me for internships at hospitals. I was able to train under a surgeon for over six months; and while there was no pay, I was able to learn many new things.
New Course
My life changed when my father died. As one of my father’s sons, I became a target. Because of this, I decided to leave my country with only the clothes on my back. I tried to stay, but ultimately, it was not safe. I went eastward to Kenya. In Kenya, I sought asylum. I spent three years there while the UN was reviewing my case to approve my entrance to the United States.
In those three years in Kenya, I was fortunate enough to do some volunteer work. I worked with Refugee Point as a medical interpreter. My job consisted of helping refugees access medical services. While working there and interacting with refugees, I realized that they needed more support than what I was offering. That led me to work with different organizations so I could serve as a centralized hub of resources. I started working with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), where I advocated for cases that needed urgent resettlements, and those with high-security needs.
Settling in the U.S.
Three years later, my case was approved and I was assigned to come to Chicago. I had little knowledge about life here and didn’t know anyone. It was my first time traveling by plane and everything felt strange and unfamiliar. When I arrived at the airport, my case manager wasn’t there. I feared I would be sent back and I didn’t really know what to expect. After two hours, she arrived and took me to my apartment.
Before leaving, she told me that in case of an emergency I should call 911. I was confused. Since I was running from police problems, why would I call them? All the knowledge I had of them was from movies of serial killers. I started fearing someone would come inside the house and I would have to call 911. That night, I did not sleep.
My case worker also told me she would come back the next day. Once she left, I realized I didn’t know how anything worked in this apartment. They gave me food, but I didn’t know how to cook American food. I didn’t know how the gas stove worked, or which food was to be refrigerated and which was not, or how to use the microwave, or even how the fridge worked. I was lost like a fish out of water and I couldn’t call anyone. Back home, we had an open-door policy where you could visit anyone and ask for help; but in this new country, everything was different.
The next day, my case manager came and picked me up to go to her office and discuss the next steps. After that, she dropped me off back home, handed me a phone, and told me to come back the next day by myself. When I tried to follow whatever directions I could remember to the office, I got lost. I was lost for eight hours with no battery on my phone and no one to help me. Anyone I approached thought I was homeless and refused to help.
After a few weeks, I was given food stamps. At first, I didn’t know what to buy with them or how they even worked. At the time, there were two people who came through the same organization as I did, who taught me how to use it. Or so I thought. I ended up using the whole month’s worth of food stamps on one trip to the store. I had no idea I was buying loads of food that would perish in 2–3 days. In the end, those two people disappeared and I was left to carry more than 25 bags of food by myself. I had to make several trips, which took me a total of 2–3 hours. After those arduous trips were done, I had no idea which food went into the fridge and which did not. And since I didn’t know how to even cook this food, it all started to smell by the third day. Within a week, everything was gone. For the rest of the month, I went to the office to drink tea and that’s all the food I got.
It was hard figuring things out here. There were volunteers who would come by once a week to teach us how to work things; but most times, I was too embarrassed to ask for help.
After two months, I started working. I did an interview for patient transportation at a hospital, but was denied the job because of my accent. Ultimately, I ended up housekeeping at the hospital. My coworkers were bullies. They criticized my job and made me do theirs. They would also force me to go out and smoke with them. I never reported them because I was scared of what they would do to me. I ended up asking for a shift change so I could avoid them as much as possible.
My job at the hospital didn’t pay enough to cover rent, so I decided to look for an additional source of income. I ended up cleaning the house of one of the lab techs at the hospital. I was grateful for the opportunity, but the environment wasn’t good. Her children were mean. If I asked for a glass of water, they would throw it at me, or they wouldn’t use the cup.
At the hospital, I was in the good graces of some doctors who liked my work. They extended me the opportunity to work in the lab, and that’s how I ended up becoming a lab assistant. I learned the ropes of being a lab assistant and did well at my job. Being there, I realized I wanted to go back to the field I knew best. I wanted to be a medical case manager and soon I started working as one for Heartland Allegiance. I began helping refugees access medical services and prescriptions, serving as an interpreter, helping them find insurance that met their medical needs, and so on.
COVID and Youtube Channel
When COVID-19 hit, things changed for refugees. Refugees were misinformed, and I wanted to do something for them. I feared that refugees would be blamed for the spread of the disease. I came up with the idea of creating a YouTube channel to inform refugees. Nothing complex, just simple information in various languages. I communicated my ideas to Public Health. I didn’t want money, just the resources to pull this off; but I was denied that, and the proposal I provided was given to another person to execute.
I then decided to make a YouTube channel myself. I made the videos with my phone, using my own pictures, and educated others on things like hygiene — how to wash your hands, and so on. My YouTube channel started to get more attention as views increased slowly and people wanted me to interview them. But I lacked the resources. I needed better cameras and much more time, since I edited the videos myself. Though these things haven’t been possible, other doors have opened. I’ve been able to connect with different organizations.
Now I work with the Refugee Action Network. I also became a delegate of the Refugee Congress and advocating for refugees, which has allowed me access to different resources in terms of information. I want to provide as much information as I can for refugees. I want them to be able to use their talents in a fruitful way.
Understanding a Refugee
It was hard figuring things out here. There were volunteers who would come by once a week to teach us how to work things; but most times, I was too embarrassed to ask for help. I was scared of being judged or labeled as stupid. Before learning how to use the microwave at work, I would put my food inside and stand in front of the microwave so people wouldn’t see that it wasn’t working. For a few months, I ate my food cold, which gave me stomach problems.
I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to fit in. It is that fear of being judged that kept our mouths shut. As refugees, we lacked an introduction to this new country. We were basically dropped in a rolling ball. We are left to figure things out ourselves instead of receiving a welcome or being met with an understanding that we come from very different places.
In some ways, refugees are invisible.
They are only seen during global crises. In those moments, everyone jumps in to help; but as soon as those crises settle down and the news goes silent, refugees are forgotten once again.
My time here has taught me to code switch according to my environment. I shouldn’t have to do that, but you can’t force people to understand or see us for who we are. People will judge what they see, and we can’t force them to see otherwise. So I’ve been molding myself to fit in and earn their trust. If people don’t trust you, you lose everything. I only wish people could see there is more to a refugee.
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